Queens

By Madeline Allen

They ran.

Into the forest, far away from the castle that loomed above them. A mess of icy stone spires and intimidating archways loomed over all who passed like open mouths. Zaria saw her sister glance back fearfully more than once, but she kept running. Even when her bare feet stumbled over sharp stones lying on the path and the arms of hundred-year-old pines reached out to grab the sisters’ long hair, only the smallest cry of pain passed her lips.

Perhaps Saretha was braver than she knew.

They came to a shuddering halt, gasping for breath, on the other end of a splinter-filled bridge. The raging river below them dashed a cold spray of droplets onto their arms, chilling them even more than the winds whipping around them already had.

Zaria brushed away the water, marveling at the way it eagerly rolled off her skin. “We should head northwest if we want to make it to the Treasury by the end of the day.” She scanned their surroundings, searching for spies in the bramble. They would have sent soldiers, most likely. In their bright scarlet uniforms, they’d be easy to spot.

She felt like laughing, then. She had known that the castle’s soldiers stuck out like blood-red roses in a field of daisies for years, but she’d spent her time trying to remedy the situation, begging her parents to see that this was a major vulnerability. How lucky, then, that their neglect might now save their daughters’ lives.

“And then what?” Saretha asked distantly, staring at her ruined gown, fifteen yards of imported blue silk and satin, dotted with glass beads, hanging in tatters around her ankles. Only an hour ago, it had been whole. Saretha had been dancing by candlelight, celebrating the day she would finally become queen. Because she was the older one, and even though she wasn’t the sister who actually wanted to rule, she-

Zaria gulped cold air and let it out in an angry sigh. This was not the time for jealousy.  Saretha would be an excellent queen. Older daughters were naturally better suited to the challenging role.

  “Aunt Raine has been planning this for- for years. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the crown unguarded. In fact, she probably wouldn’t even leave it in the Treasury at all!”  Saretha stamped her foot in the mud on the riverbank, sending a thick splatter sailing into the air. It landed on the hem of her dress, which made her burst into tears.

“Saretha,” Zaria took her sister’s arms, “We have to keep moving.” She heard the hints of desperation laced through her tone. She hoped Saretha did, too.

“I know,” she whispered.  

But she didn’t move.

Zaria pointed up to the sky, already dotted with sparkling stars, at the moon hanging overhead. It was round and plump, a perfect sphere, and tinted purple. The New Year’s moon. It would stay in the sky for eight hours precisely before vanishing until the next year. It was only under this moon that a new queen could be crowned, and only under this moon that she could accept the crown and the magic that came with it.

Eight hours. Four had already passed.

“We have one shot,” she said, realizing that her expression was probably scaring Saretha, but not really caring. “If Aunt Raine gets to the crown first… she has royal blood, Sar. The crown will give her the magic.”

Saretha dipped her head. It was the smallest nod of acknowledgement Zaria had ever seen. But it was something.

Their hands tangled together, and they broke into a run.

The woods got deeper and darker from this point on. Zaria had been forbidden to ever come this far, even with armed guards (which were perfectly unnecessary, because Zaria could beat them all regularly with whichever weapon she chose). However, it was one decree that she hadn’t minded obeying. Nothing had stopped her from pouring over every map in the castle library and reading every account of the journeys to the Treasury, so she knew better than anyone the route.

Hopefully, Aunt Raine hadn’t done the same thing.

Zaria kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, mapping out the way through the clusters of gnarled roots. Every few yards, she would leap over another knot, duck under another low-hanging branch, or splash through yet another a muddy puddle, dragging Saretha behind her. Her sister was silent once more, leaving Zaria to worry about anything and everything.

What if they didn’t make it in time? What if Aunt Raine had moved the crown?

No, she couldn’t have. The coronation ceremonies had taken place at the Treasury for hundreds of years. If she broke tradition, the people were less likely to accept her as the true queen. If Zaria was Raine, she would have planned everything perfectly. Fine-tuned every little detail of her takeover over the years-

She had to stop herself there because a wave of nausea had overtaken her. She couldn’t be thinking these things. This was how Raine had become Raine—the jealous younger sister who wanted nothing more than to rule the queendom. If she had to sacrifice her hopes and dreams to avoid morphing into the next Raine, she would do it.

“Zaria!” Saretha shrieked, tugging on Zaria’s arm so hard she almost yanked it out of its socket. The sisters tumbled backwards, scraping across the uneven forest floor. The pine trees took the chance to grab Zaria’s hair, tugging it painfully. “What are you doing? You almost ran us off a cliff!”

Zaria got to her feet, wobbling slightly. She peered into the gathering shadows, only just making out the unforgiving edge of sharp rocks that marked the edge of the land. Less than three feet in front of her, safety vanished into a chasm that spread farther than she could see both outwards and downwards.

“This wasn’t on the maps” was all she could think to say. Angrily, she flicked a mossy twig off of her shoulder, watching as it plummeted into the rift. She pressed her hands to her chest, as though to muffle the sound of her runaway heartbeat. If not for her sister, they would both be in the twig’s place. Because Zaria hadn’t been paying attention.

A queen would not make that mistake.

A queen would save others from that mistake. Like Saretha had.

“And you didn’t think to check how old these maps were?” Saretha snapped. Her brilliant emerald eyes gleamed sliver under the moon’s light, bringing a mystical quality to her features. “Zaria.  You don’t make mistakes like that.”

“I know!” Zaria laced her fingers together and brought them to rest on her forehead. “Okay… okay. We have to go around it. It wasn’t on any maps, which means no one knows that it’s here, so there won’t be a bridge.” She turned and began to walk along the edge of the chasm, sending sprays of pebbles into the darkness below.

Saretha hurried after her, walking noticeably much farther away from the edge.  “We have to hurry.  Who knows how much time we have left.”

 “Three hours, eleven minutes,” Zaria supplied. She smiled to herself as she watched Saretha’s eyes widen with shock. Then she casually pushed the golden watch circling her wrist under her sleeve, away from her sister’s view.

They walked.

Along the edge of the rift that seemed to never end, they stumbled uncertainly, wincing with every step, catching each other when they tripped. Finally—at two hours, one minute—they turned back in the right direction. The woods melted into a muddy dirt path, marred only by two thin grooves running down its middle.

“Carriage wheels,” Zaria whispered. “She’s already on her way.”

“That’s… not great.” Saretha tilted her head back to steal a glance at the moon. “Do we even have a chance?”

Zaria didn’t answer, instead unlatching the necklace tucked under her gown. It slipped into her hand, a pool of interlocking silver chains surrounding a rounded locket the size of her thumb. She pried it open, ignoring her shaking hands, revealing a small mound of sparkling golden powder. She carefully pinched a small amount, set it on her waiting palm, and blew it over the marks the wheels had left.

Thousands of glittering dots rushed into the air, sparkling and twinkling even in the low evening light, twirling as they came to a rest on the muddy ground. Each speck began to glow with warm, steady light when it reached its resting place.

Slow her down, Zaria commanded them, closing her eyes and willing them to obey. They responded obediently, tugging at Aunt Raine’s carriage. Even though she wasn’t there, she heard the snap of a wooden wheel breaking, heard Aunt Raine’s piercing shriek and felt the carriage bump to a halt.

“What did you just do?” Saretha breathed, glancing between the golden dust and her sister, glaring at each one with equal intensity. “That’s illegal, Zaria. Only the queen is allowed to have magic. And how did you –”

“I did my research,” Zaria snapped, turning away and marching along the lines left by Aunt Raine’s carriage. “It’s the same gold that the crown is made out of. I studied for years to learn how to use it properly. Magic has always fascinated me. And since I’m not the queen—since I’ll never be the queen…” she winced at how bitter she sounded, and softened her tone slightly, “this was my only option.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone.” Saretha had caught up to her. “How did you even get your hands on the gold?”

Zaria winced.

Of course Saretha would ask the one question she hadn’t wanted to answer.

She whispered her reply as quietly as she could, hoping it would be whipped away from Saretha’s ears by the breeze.

“Aunt Raine gave it to me.”

Zaria’s luck for the day must have run out, because Saretha gasped when the words reached her. “That’s how she did what she did. She had magic, and you knew. You could have stopped her from doing this!”

She was struck suddenly with visions of what had happened a few hours ago. Shattered fragments of memory that barely made sense to her. A cold breeze, blowing thousands of candles out at once. Glimmers of golden light zooming around the room, freezing everyone in place.

Except for Zaria and Saretha. She still couldn’t figure out why. Perhaps the magic would not work on others with royal blood?

“This way,” she said, ducking off of the path into the dense forest. “Shortcut.” 

She heard Saretha following her, snapping twice as many twigs under her feet and knocking into three times as many branches. For some reason, this brought a smile to her face.

“Are you certain this is a shortcut?” Saretha snapped. “Because it feels like I’m going to have to save you from another cliff.”

“You won’t,” Zaria replied shortly, brushing aside a few more branches to reveal the round wooden dome of the Treasury. She slipped through the gap, dashing across the last few yards to the entryway of the Treasury. The rounded doors loomed over her, dark wood carved with images of vines and flowers. Zaria pressed down on the handle, holding her breath. She was finally here, at the place where the magic was stored, the place where it would be passed… 

…to Saretha.

But the doors didn’t budge.

Saretha sighed. “Oh, fantastic.”

Zaria ignored her. She reached for the locket again, sprinkling the smallest amount of golden dust on the handle.

Click.

The doors swung open.

The inside of the Treasury was simple, not at all like Zaria had expected. The sisters stepped into a wooden room, round like it was on the outside. There were no windows. The only light in the room poured in through a skylight at the apex of the dome, racing down in a single beam to hit the crown.

Zaria’s breath was stolen away when she saw it. It was both delicate and sturdy, crafted from the finest gold in the queendom and studded with ruby teardrops. The base swept up into twelve even points, each topped with a circular diamond. She found herself reaching for it without even thinking, wanting only to feel its weight in her hands. Perhaps on her head. It would look lovely there… 

“Zaria.” Saretha snatched her arm, pulling her back. Just as she had by the cliff. For once again, Zaria had been so focused on the final goal, she hadn’t noticed what was right in front of her.

Aunt Raine stood over the crown, smiling triumphantly. She looked much more like a queen than Zaria or Saretha did in that moment, standing tall, confidently, certain of victory. And the fact that her midnight-blue dress was completely intact and not caked in mud and splashed with murky water definitely helped.

“I thought you stopped her,” Saretha said. The edges of her mouth were set in a sharp frown. She released Zaria’s arm and took a step back, eyes darting around the room. Zaria’s heart sank. She’d seen that expression enough to know what it meant. For the first time today, Saretha was genuinely frightened. For a few moments, Zaria wondered why—and then it hit her.

She thinks I helped Aunt Raine.

“Zaria only inconvenienced me,” Raine said with a careless shrug. Her nails, so white she might have dipped them in sparkling snow, curled around the crown. She gently lifted it off of its cushion. “Unfortunately for her, she’s not the only one with magic.”

“If you already have magic, then why do you need to be queen?” Zaria asked, slowly tiptoeing forward. “You don’t want to rule.”

“I want to be queen for all the reasons you do. We may have magic, but what we can do with it is insignificant compared to what we could do with this crown.” Aunt Raine’s ultramarine eyes were fixed greedily on it.  Zaria’s fingernails bit into her palms. Was that how she had looked at the crown? Was she any better than Aunt Raine? She stood, transfixed, watching as her aunt began to raise the crown to her head.

“No!” Saretha lunged for the crown, knocking over the pedestal that it had been resting on. Her fingernails scraped across its surface, but Raine easily lifted it out of the way, laughing.

“Less than an hour left, darling niece. And anyway, it’s too late for you.” She stroked the rim of the crown, and as her fingers grazed the metal, it began to glow. “You see, I’ve been doing some reading. In the old days, it seems that the crown didn’t automatically belong to the eldest daughter. It gifted itself to the royal who had the most experience using magic. And that’s me.”

“Or…” Zaria took a few cautious steps forward, until she was standing directly in front of the crown. “Or me. You gave me the powder too, remember? Five years ago.”

Off to the side, Saretha made an alarmed squeaking sound. “Five years? You’ve been breaking the law for five years?”

Zaria ignored her.

Raine looked slightly annoyed. “I thought you’d be happy for me, darling. You always used to go on and on about how younger daughters should have a chance at being queen.”

“They should,” Zaria said firmly. “But only if they’re going to be fair and good. Only if they’re a better option for the queendom. You’re not.”

“And you are?” Raine laughed lightly, as though Zaria was a little child who had said something amusing. Had she not been holding the crown, Zaria seriously suspected Raine would have patted her on the head.

Zaria shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t we find out?”

And she grabbed the glowing crown.

She wasn’t sure, exactly, what had made her do it, but she knew she had needed to. Warmth surged through her, spreading from her fingertips through her arms and finally wrapping itself around her heart. Her palms burned furiously, and judging by Aunt Raine’s grimace, hers were doing the same. 

“Let go!” Saretha shrieked. “Zaria!  You don’t know what it will do to you!”

“I can’t let go,” Zaria realized, staring into the haze of golden light. There was a new sensation twisting itself around and around in her palms. It washed away the searing heat with burning cold, replaced her fear that Aunt Raine would become the queen with certainty that she would not.

Judging by the anger in Raine’s eyes, she was not feeling the same thing.

A slow smile stretched across Zaria’s lips.

The crown chose me.

She jerked the crown from Aunt Raine’s hands. The golden light still hovering around them condensed and solidified into a ball before exploding outwards, throwing Raine back. Zaria lifted the crown, doing her best to keep her shaking hands still. She placed it on her head, unsure whether or not it would stay.

“Step into the moonlight.”

Zaria turned her head carefully. Saretha was staring at her, lips trembling, eyebrows creased into a frown.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, suddenly wanting to hide somewhere far, far away. “I’m really sorry –”

“Don’t be,” she interrupted. “It always should have been you. I never really wanted it.  Not like you.” She pointed at the moonlight. “Go. You don’t have much time left. She could wake up at any moment.”

Zaria stepped into the moonlight.

The instant the light touched the crown, Zaria felt the magic trickle into her, slow and steady. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—somehow, both hot and cold at the same time. As it settled into her heart and her hands, it felt like it had always belonged there.

It took a few weeks, once they made it back to the castle, to restore the damage Aunt Raine had done. There were hundreds of people to unfreeze, dozens more to free from her control, and thousands to convince that Zaria was supposed to be the queen. Saretha was by her side for all of it, smiling at those who came forward with questions and offering them patience that Zaria could not. They held a second, official crowning ceremony in the courtyard, once everyone had been unfrozen, and in front of their entire queendom, Saretha placed the crown on Zaria’s head.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she whispered, smiling gently.

Zaria turned away from her sister to face the crowd spread out below her. Row after row of faces, each wearing a different expression, all tilted up towards their new queen.  

She stepped forward, brown hair billowing behind her, to greet them.

–

Madeline Allen is a high school student from the mountains of Montana. She is inspired by myths, fairytales, and magical moments from everyday life. When she’s not writing, you can usually find her eating cupcakes or listening to film scores.